


Show Me

by Melacka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Infidelity, Masturbation, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melacka/pseuds/Melacka
Summary: Looking back, Pansy could never really figure out why the affair had started. She’d given up on trying to understand it by now. Any attempt to fully understand whatever this thing was between them would probably only result in it ending.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74
Collections: The First Annual Femslash Kink Exchange 2020





	Show Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outlier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlier/gifts).



Pansy paused outside the pub and glanced nervously around, trying to discern any traces of magic or people she wouldn’t want to see in the vicinity. Satisfied, she pushed the door open and stepped into the establishment. She almost recoiled immediately at the scene that met her eyes.

Muggles.

They were _everywhere_. There were so many of them and the room seemed to be almost exclusively male. They were gathered in groups, drinking and laughing. They didn’t seem to pay her any attention, though, which was something of a relief.

She froze, paralysed by temporary indecision, but then someone came in behind her and shouldered her out of the way, a little roughly. Pansy scowled, a curse begging to be set free hovered on her lips.

“Sorry, luv! Didn’t see you there.”

_Luv_.

Pansy could _hear_ the misspelling.

She nodded curtly at the man to show that his apology had been received, if not entirely accepted, and moved further inside. She knew where she was going, she just had to get there without incident.

There were men everywhere. Yelling and gesturing at small screens throughout the room.

_Television_ , a helpful little voice in her head reminded her. _They’re watching television._

Hermione had assured her that this was the perfect place to meet, as no one would care about her at all as long as that silly sport was going on.

_Football, Pansy_ , the voice chimed in again. _You know what it’s called, don’t be such a snob_.

“Nice dress,” a woman said as she passed Pansy on the way to the loo. “Where’d you get it?”

“I made it,” Pansy said stiffly, which was true. Technically.

It was part of their arrangement. Any time they would meet in the Muggle world, she would transfigure her robes into something more suitable. Apparently, she needed to adopt this absurd Muggle costume in order to _blend in_.

Pansy had never been one to blend in. She stood out. A cut above. An example to all the riffraff around her.

She missed her cloak, with its many folds and hidden pockets. The perfect garment to draw around oneself.

In lieu of any garment suitable to the purpose, she drew her dignity around her protectively. Something she never left home without.

Pansy sent one more critical glance around the room before she started to walk towards the stairs. She knew that Hermione was waiting for her and they didn’t have long together.

They never did.

Looking back, Pansy could never really figure out why the affair had started. She’d given up on trying to understand it by now. Any attempt to fully understand whatever this _thing_ was between them would probably only result in it ending. Their relationship, for lack of a better word, would not stand up to scrutiny. A certain level of denial was required for them to even function together. They had reason enough to despise one another and barely enough in common to even hold a civil conversation. And yet, somehow, Hermione had carved a place for herself in her mind. Pansy wasn’t quite ready to admit that she had any kind of hold on her heart, of course. They both had reputations to uphold, after all.

Hence the subterfuge. The sneaking around. The lies.

Pansy _loved_ it.

She lived for these brief moments of respite. These short hours where she could finally be herself. Where she was free to just _be_.

Everything else was irrelevant.

She pushed open the door at the end of the hallway and entered the room silently. Once the door was safely closed and locked behind her, she let out a breath.

“Hermione.”

Hermione turned to look at her, a smile barely tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was wearing a flimsy dressing gown and Pansy briefly wondered if she had brought it with her specially, or if she had conjured it.

“Pansy.”

It was always this way with them. No need for pleasantries. No pretence at deeper feeling.

“Have I kept you waiting long?” Pansy asked, adopting a bored tone of voice to indicate that she didn’t really care either way.

“I’ve been here a while,” Hermione said, waving a careless hand. “Gave me time to shower.”

Hermione always showered before their time together. When they met, Hermione was always perfectly clean and mostly composed. Just once, Pansy wanted her to let her see her as she was.

Pansy wanted to ruffle her feathers. Disturb her composure.

Pansy wanted to see Hermione _messy_.

“Oh?” Pansy murmured, stalking towards her. “Did you need to wash his scent off you, then?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like any mention of her husband while the were together. Pansy knew that, of course.

That’s why she did it.

“I saw you with him today,” Pansy continued softly, trailing a hand down Hermione’s body. “All cosy at lunchtime. And it got me thinking.”

“About what?” Hermione said stiffly, allowing Pansy to slide her robe off.

“When you’re with him—”

“Pansy,” Hermione gasped, half warning, half anticipation.

“Do you ever think of me?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Pansy whispered, pressing her lips to Hermione’s neck gently. “Do you ever think of me when we’re not together?”

“Yes.”

Pansy smiled and trailed her fingers teasingly around Hermione’s breasts, avoiding the nipples even as Hermione strained towards her.

“Do you ever touch yourself and think of me?”

“Pansy,” Hermione groaned. “What are you—”

“Answer me, Hermione,” Pansy said seriously. “Do you ever touch yourself and think of me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Of course, I do.”

“Show me,” Pansy murmured, hands still cupping her breasts.

Hermione gasped and threw her head back when Pansy roughly pinched her nipples.

“Show me,” Pansy said again, more insistently.

“I—” Hermione faltered, looking at Pansy fearfully. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Come on,” Pansy said encouragingly, walking Hermione backwards towards the bed. “You’re not usually one to back away from a challenge.”

Hermione’s legs hit the bed and she sat down quickly.

“Let me see you, Hermione,” Pansy continued, kneeling down in front of her.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she sucked in a surprised breath.

“You like this?” Pansy said, a hint of amusement in her voice now. “You like to see me on my knees in front of you?”

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. Pansy smiled and put her hands on Hermione’s thighs, encouraging her to spread them open. There was something almost unbearably arousing about being completely clothed in front of her while she was naked. Pansy liked to think that she was in control in this relationship, but Hermione could ask her anything and she would do it.

Pansy hated how vulnerable Hermione could make her.

Hated even more that Hermione didn’t seem to even realise it.

“Tell me,” Pansy said desperately. “Tell me what you think of when you touch yourself.”

“Pansy—”

“Please, love.”

The endearment slipped out without Pansy being fully aware of it and Hermione gasped.

“I think of you all the time,” she said in a rush. “When I’m at work, sometimes I’ll be talking to someone and then it’s like I forget how to breathe.”

Hermione took Pansy’s hands in hers and squeezed gently.

“I think about these hands,” she continued, starting into Pansy’s eyes. “I think about what they do to me. How good they make me feel.”

“Yes,” Pansy whispered. “Yes, love.”

“I think about this mouth,” Hermione said, releasing one of her hands and tracing Pansy’s lips with the tips of her fingers. “I think about how it feels to have it pressed against me.”

Hermione released Pansy’s other hand and spread her legs wider. Pansy was torn between watching her face and watching the progress of her hands. Hermione spread herself open and Pansy’s eyes darted down as if compelled by magic.

“I think about how it feels when you bite me,” Hermione continued, fingers moving slowly against her clit. Lazy circles meant to tease. “I love it when you leave those little marks on me.”

Pansy took the hint and leaned forward, pressing her mouth to Hermione’s thigh. She bit down hard, and Hermione let out a shriek. Pansy nuzzled the bruised skin as Hermione squirmed above her. After a moment, she pulled back and looked at the mark left on the skin with satisfaction.

“Like that?”

“Yes,” Hermione said breathlessly. “I love to look at those marks later and remember you.”

“Yes, love, yes,” Pansy moaned.

Hermione’s fingers sped up, moving faster against her clit. Pansy watched, fascinated, and then, unable to resist any longer, moved her head between Hermione’s legs.

“Pansy,” Hermione gasped.

“Keep going, love,” Pansy replied. “Don’t ever stop.”

Pansy wrapped her lips around Hermione’s fingers and sucked. Hermione let out a shriek and Pansy grinned. Pansy tried to push Hermione back onto the bed but Hermione resisted.

“I want to see you,” Hermione gasped, struggling against Pansy’s hands. “Please, Pansy, I need to see you.”

Pansy fumbled for her wand and conjured a mirror above them.

“Keep watching,” she groaned, pushing Hermione unresisting to the bed.

“Oh,” Hermione sighed. “ _Oh_.”

“Keep talking, Hermione. Don’t stop!”

Pansy leaned forward again and took Hermione’s fingers in her mouth, sucking greedily, awkwardly, as Hermione kept circling her clit faster and faster. Pansy slipped two of her own fingers inside of her, moving them in and out almost lazily, even as her tongue worked furiously on her clit. Hermione finally drew her hand away and grasped the back of Pansy’s head, holding her in place as she moved against her face.

“When I can’t sleep, I think of you going down on me,” Hermione said, her voice becoming a high-pitched moan. “I slip my hand into my knickers and wish they were yours.”

Pansy groaned and pressed her face closer against Hermione, breathing her in, eyes closed in pleasure.

“It’s never enough, though,” Hermione whispered. “I always want more from you.”

“You can have more,” Pansy mumbled. “You can have everything.”

“I can?”

“Yes, love,” Pansy said sincerely, standing up and crawling over Hermione on the bed.

She banished her clothes silently and pressed her body into Hermione.

“I want you, Pansy. Please.”

Pansy smiled and lowered her head to kiss Hermione tenderly.

It couldn’t last. They both knew that.

As Pansy traced her tongue along Hermione’s lip, she slipped her hand back down between her legs. She started to circle her clit quickly.

Hermione’s whole body arched and Pansy reared back to watch, grinning in triumph.

Pansy didn’t need it to last, all she needed was this moment.


End file.
